Gwaine and Gwen
by BadWolfWhoWaited
Summary: Oneshot, Gwaine/OC 'She was pale and petite and beautiful and the first time he saw her she had a dagger low on his abdomen and was demanding he release her RIGHT NOW or he'd be singing soprano for his supper.'
1. Gwaine and Gwen

**Hi! So...a Merlin Oneshot.**

**Yeah...anyway, firsties for writing for this fandom (fingers crossed that it'll go well) and I was inspired to do something a LEETLE different to do with Gwaine.**

**So...yeah, review. And yes, this is a ONE SHOT.**

**Anyway, so I don't own Merlin or Gwaine...I own Gwenhyfar though. She's mine. Back off!**

**Oh, and this is a new style of writing for me. Feedback? Thoughts anyone?**

* * *

**Gwaine and Gwen**

Her name was Gwen.

She had long hair, as red as tongues of flame, and dark green eyes that shone with laughter and life and fire. She was pale and petite and beautiful and the first time he saw her she had a dagger low on his abdomen and was demanding he release her RIGHT NOW or he'd be singing soprano for his supper.

He'd always liked a woman with sass.

And even at seventeen, when she was scared and young and hiding some big secret he was sure would get him killed (He was twenty-one, already having been on his own for a few years and she was small and delicate looking) she was a woman. Stubborn and strong and witty with a smile that could kill.

Gwenhyfar of Lodekrantz, his little spitfire. Small and dangerous and skilled with a sword.

* * *

They spent four years travelling together.

Four happy years.

They went from tavern to tavern to tavern, having little adventures and stealing and brawling and fighting and loving and hating and lusting and everything else.

They were imperfect and screwed up and they didn't always fit JUST RIGHT, like Guinevere and Arthur, but when they were good together-oh how good they were.

She was hot headed and sharp tongued and silver tongued and cunning. She used her voice and her charms and her figure and her face and that stunning hair and those flashing emerald eyes to get her way.

Oh, the times they'd stayed in a room for free because Gwen gave the Innkeeper a wink and a smile and a toss of her hair and pretended that he had a shot.

They never had a shot-Gwen was Gwaine's, and Gwaine's only.

Gwen and Gwaine, Gwaine and Gwen, traversing the Five Kingdoms for no reason at all.

* * *

He remembered that her hair was always warm and soft, and it felt like watered silk sliding through his calloused fingertips. He'd wind his fingers in it when he kissed her, her arms would wrap around his neck and he could JUST remember the feel of her in his arms-warm, soft skin, lean muscle, the daggers hidden on her person.

Gwen was a great one for daggers.

She knew just how to flick her wrist to send them hurtling through the air and hitting their target.

She didn't like to kill when they fought.

Shoulders, arms, legs...

She would wound, slow down, incapacitate...but never kill.

The few times she killed it was accidental or our of necessity, and she'd cry and cry and cry, curled up on Gwaine's lap with her head tucked under his chin and her hands fisted in his shirt.

Gwaine held her for hours then, in some remote little hidey-hole in one of the hundreds of forests scattered across the kingdoms.

He'd hold her and she'd let herself go, let herself wash away the guilt and the pain and the regret with her tears and her broken cries of 'I didn't mean too'.

She'd burn them later, bury their ashes and put up a marker.

Gwaine would watch as the woman he loved lost a tiny bit of herself as she finished the burial and said her prayers.

* * *

Gwaine wasn't a man of faith. He didn't believe in the Old Way or the new-fangled religions creeping in, he didn't believe in anything (except Gwen, but she said that it didn't really count, she wasn't a Goddess. Gwaine begged to differ) but Gwen believed in the Old Ways, in Magic and Dragons and Unicorns.

* * *

They saw a Unicorn once.

Gwen wasn't a virgin by that point but she was pure and good and the Unicorn rested it's head in her lap and she petted it and laughed and Gwaine fell all the more in love with her in that moment.

* * *

Gwaine loved her in every moment.

Even when they were scrapping and fighting and screaming (They screamed a lot, sometimes in public) he loved that she was the only one who could do this to him, the only one who could bring out the best and the worst and make him lose his temper.

They never fought about his drinking though-Gwen understood, accepted it. And he never drunk too much around Gwen anyway.

* * *

Their fights were usually stupid, just the result of tension and simmering anger and it all exploded at inappropriate times but they felt better afterwards, and they'd look up at the stars and Gwaine would wonder what he ever did to deserve his Gwen.

His wonderful, amazing, impossible Gwen.

* * *

He used to tell her that, that he didn't deserve her. And she'd scoff and hit his shoulder and tell him he was a fool and that she loved him more than she could stand and dammit he was stuck with her so he better not do that noble, self-sacrificing thing because it didn't suit him and she'd have him singing soprano like she'd threatened that first night in the tavern when he grabbed her wrist and drunkenly asked her to bed.

* * *

They went broke a lot in the last few years. The coin was just never there, and Gwaine felt terrible because he couldn't provide for his Gwen and she was wonderful and deserved crowns and pretty dresses and a better horse than her old mare.

She'd tell him she wanted HIM, that she was happy, but they both knew it was hard and sometimes Gwen used to quietly propose the idea of her selling her charms.

Gwaine opposed vehemently-Gwen would never be lowered to that, never.

She was too good inside, and he didn't want other men touching what was HIS.

Because Gwen was his and he was most definitley Gwen's. They were eachother's. Gwaine and Gwen, Gwen and Gwaine. Together forever, united and strong and in love.

* * *

He was Gwen's before she was his.

He loved her almost instantly-she saved him and he saved her and then they were friends and it happened so fast and somehow he fell in love with green eyes and red hair and witty words and a bright smile.

She didn't love him to start, but when she did fall she fell so fast it made her head spin and suddenly she was pushing Gwaine up against a tree and kissing him and Gwaine was wondering just HOW she'd learnt that and thinking that she tasted like apples and smelt like blossoms and that her lips were soft and her hair felt amazing.

* * *

Gwen was brilliant.

Gwen could drink a man under the table. Gwen could match him blow for blow in a sparring match. Gwen could read and write and count. Gwen could brandish a needle as well as she could a sword. Gwen could read tracks and knew which plants were which. But...Gwen couldn't cook. Gwen couldn't sing. Gwen couldn't act ladylike for more than ten couldn't ride side-saddle or abide dresses. Gwen couldn't use a bow and arrow without hitting herself in the eye with SOMETHING.

Still, Gwen was wonderful.

* * *

They tried settling down for a while, in their second year. They built a little hovel in a little village and were there for two months.

The monotony bored them, so they left.

* * *

Gwen got pregnant once.

She was twenty and neither of them had any idea until they got into a tavern brawl and a man punched her in the stomach and knocked her against a wall.

She cried when she found out, cried for the child she hadn't had.

Gwaine cried too as he held her, mourned their baby.

They didn't know what the sex was, so they named it Merrow and buried it under a tree.

Gwaine knew they weren't ready for a child, but he mourned the baby anyway.

* * *

Gwaine always had a suspicion he and Gwen wouldn't just fizzle out. Their love was fiery and passionate and amazing and painful, and they couldn't just burn out and fade away. No, they would die out with a big bang and lots of smoke and casualties and collateral damage and it would be as big and as bright and as terrible but beautiful as the rest of their lives together were.

* * *

It was autumn when Gwen was taken. The year was dying and the leaves were falling and they were skirting around Camelot. She was rolling and jumping in piles of leaves and Gwaine was joining her and their horses were happy and she looked free and they were just Gwaine and Gwen and Gwen and Gwaine, and it felt wonderful.

The men came out of nowhere-men in blue with a silver horse and they took her and Gwaine and beat him up when they made camp.

He was alone in his tent and screaming for Gwen because who KNEW what these monsters were doing to her and he was alone and Gwen was frightened and hurt.

He waited all night.

She came to him in the morning, dressed in a dress with a circlet on her forehead and her hair in intricate braids.

Gwen's hair didn't look right it braids, it ought to be free-flowing and swishing down to her waist like it usually was. That's all Gwaine could think when she came to him.

All he could think was that Gwen didn't look like Gwen, she didn't look RIGHT.

It was then she told him everything, told him that big secret that Gwaine had knew she had, that he had always thought was going to get him killed.

She was Gwenhwyfar, daughter of Lady Syera and Lord Bran of the fiefdom Lodekrantz in Caerleon. She was engaged to the nephew of the Queen and King, a man she didn't want to marry, so she ran.

The heir had fallen in love with her, wanted ONLY her, and he hunted her down.

She sobbed and Gwaine understood that she HAD to leave and that she didn't want too but he still yelled and was angry that she'd lied because they were from the same damn COUNTRY and he'd never known, and she was engaged and she was leaving him and he'd be alone.

They'd done this before, this horrible yelling.

Gwaine didn't mean half the things he said, he just couldn't think, couldn't BREATHE because Gwen-his other half, his light, his fire, his reason for living-was LEAVING and he'd be alone, and he wasn't used to being alone anymore, he was used to Gwen and now he had to give that up.

So he yelled and shouted and screamed, like he always did when he was scared and hurt and he didn't UNDERSTAND.

But this time, she didn't yell back.

She just kissed him one last time and said she loved him and walked away, still crying.

Gwaine was knocked out the next morning and dumped, with the horses and some money, where he was taken.

He was left with memories and a horse and a few little keepsakes and a sack of gold, and it made him want to die.

Because Gwaine knew, in that moment, he'd never love anyone as much as he loved his Gwen.

* * *

He never thought they'd end really, because he was Gwaine and she was Gwen and they were amazing and love stories like theirs were supposed to have HAPPY ENDINGS dammit and it just wasn't fair. He loved her and she was gone.

* * *

The days after she left were a blur of drinking and fighting. He could still see her out of the corner of his eye, feel her skin, taste her lips.

The drinking made her go away and Gwaine just wanted her to GO AWAY.

How could he learn to live without her if she didn't LEAVE?

* * *

Gwaine likes to think he was attracted to Arthur's Gwen because, in some ways, she was a little like HIS Gwen-strong and determined and a little sassy and immune to his charms...at first.

And they both had that kind, good soul that shone a hundred miles away.

Gwaine was always drawn to people too good for him, always.

But they were different, so different, because His Gwen was all fire and linen and steel and terrible and beautiful, like a summer storm at sea, and Arthur's Gwen was quiet and nice and a little too meek and just...everything His Gwen was supposed to be but wasn't.

Seeing Arthur's Gwen was like seeing how His Gwen would have to be with her husband. Still shinning brightly, but not as bright as he remembered.

Gwaine tried to stop the thoughts there though, because then he thought about His Gwen having children that should be his, and how in Camelot maybe they could have settled down and had a family and they still could have gone on adventures because otherwise Gwen would get bored.

And God forbid that Gwen should get bored.

* * *

He misses her all the time, it's like losing a limb. It's this hollow, empty ache inside which hurts and stings and sometimes numbs him all over.

* * *

'Pheasant' used to be their codeword for trouble, and even though he likes Merlin (Gwen would have liked him too because the servant is loyal and brave and so, so GOOD) and he is the first person Gwaine has trusted after Gwen, it disappointed him when he realised Merlin did not understand the joke.

No one would ever understand that joke.

No one would ever understand HIM, like Gwen did.

* * *

Arthur would have annoyed Gwen, but she would have grown to love him. Gwen would have bonded with Arthur's Gwen, tried to loosen up Leon, become the sister and friends of the Commoner Knights. It's so easy to imagine her slipping into his life at Camelot, becoming a part of his routine again, that it physically hurts when he remembers she's not there.

She never will be.

* * *

When they were going to war with Caerleon, as they stood up on that ridge, Gwaine peered to try and see Gwen's husband.

There he was, the Nephew of Annis, standing near her with his dark hair and dark eyes.

He hoped to God he was making her happy or Gwen would become a widow in the blink of an eye, future King or no.

* * *

Once, shortly after meeting Merlin for the first time, two years after Gwen, he visited home, and his sister and his mother.

His sister was married to a good man, his mother living with them in their household.

His mother said a beautiful lady with red hair and dark emerald eyes had seen them and stopped, and insisted on giving his sister's husband a ring from her finger.

Gwaine knew instantly who it was, and became angry.

How DARE she make them a charity case, of shaming his sister by implying that her husband wasn't good enough, wasn't doing enough to support them.

He rode over to Lodekrantz and was about to ask for an audience when...

when he saw her.

There she was, in her dark green dress, holding the hand of a little toddler tottering unsteadily, a baby in the arms of a nurse behind her. She was walking him into the market, a little boy with brown hair and dark emerald eyes and a nose that he knew to be his.

The little baby had her mother's hair and her father's eyes and was sweet and charming, but Gwaine was watching the boy.  
"Gwaine, you're slowing me down" She reprimanded with a faint smile.

Gwaine had heard those words before countless times-spoken with irritation, with amusement, with anger...

This was the first time he had heard those words spoken with such a wistful affection, like every time she said those words she remembered.

The little boy glared at his mother with such a GWEN glare that Gwaine had to stifle a laugh.

Gwaine looked at her, glowing and motherly and amazing and beautiful and still so GWEN...

and so he decided to walk away.

He might have had that. He could have gotten over his fear of marriage, married her, settled down and no one would have taken her then but-

but maybe it was better this way.

One day, Gwen would be Queen of Caerleon. She'd be good and kind and wonderful and amazing and Gwaine would be so, so proud of her.

That was her destiny.

To be bright and beautiful and brilliant and radiant as the sun as she ruled Caerleon, and made it a better, fairer kingdom.

And then Gwaine's son, his child, his little boy, would be king after her death.

'King Gwaine of Caerleon'—Gwaine didn't mind the sound of that.

Yes, that was how it was supposed to be. He and Gwen were supposed to cross paths, and love and hate and lust and feel such passion and need for each other for that short time. They were supposed to have that, to learn from each other and become better then they would have ever been alone.

For four years, they were supposed to be each other's worlds.

But only for four years.

And Gwen would be Queen and Gwaine would...well, Gwaine would figure it out but he was pretty sure it would involve Camelot.

They'd live their lives and always remember those years together and that was all they'd ever have-those years, those memories, the warmth of the sun on their backs and the softness of each other's lips and calloused hands and soft hair...

And that would have to be enough.

So Gwaine smiled a rueful smile and drank in this last look at Gwen.

He knew this was how he would remember her-not as the girl with the dagger, the woman by the fire...but as the mother of his child, the future Queen of Caerleon.

Regal and majestic and wise and fair and kind and LOVED.

The fire a little tamer than it was in years past, but still there, burning brightly and hotly under the demure exterior.

So much had changed, but she was still Gwen.

He could see her as a Queen, he could see her people adoring her, respecting her.

Loving her.

For who could not love Gwen?

Gwaine knew he always would. Gwen was not the type one could just stop loving. No, Gwaine would always love Gwen, always love her the most, the BEST, love her more than anyone no matter what happened until the stars fell and the sky burned...and maybe, Gwen would always love Gwaine.

They'd promised after all, that they'd always love each other.

And Gwen did not break her promises. Ever.

Gwaine and Gwen, Gwen and Gwaine. Maybe not together forever, but Gwaine had a feeling that Gwen was the end of love for him. He couldn't love another girl like that, not after Gwen.

He couldn't love someone else when he knew that Gwen would always come first, he couldn't love after he had been scorched by her fire and drowned in her eyes.

And yes it hurt that this would be the last he saw of her, but she was smiling and he had a SON somewhere in the world and Gwen still looked beautiful and one day she'd be a Queen and he might learn to live again.

Yes, this was how it was supposed to be.

So Gwaine left, left behind the son he'd never know, and his glorious Gwen, and felt a little lighter.

Gwen would be alright, he would be alright. They'd had their time, their interlude, and now it was time for destiny to take over.

Gwaine had never been a great believer in destiny, but Gwen had, and Gwen was right about most things.

* * *

It was autumn of their first year together, and Gwen was lying on a bed of leaves that were tangled in her hair as dappled sunlight played on her bare, pale skin. It was chilly but they were warm and Gwaine was holding her close by the fire they'd built earlier.

She was warm and soft and snuggled up against him and the pale morning sunlight was melting the frost nearby and somehow they'd lost their blanket one of his shoes was missing. But that didn't matter.

All that mattered was Gwen, Gwen who was lying asleep in his arms.

They were just Gwaine and Gwen, Gwen and Gwaine, two people in love sleeping in the forest, young and free and amazing.

Gwen was amazing.

Gwaine told her softly, whispered into her hair, that he never had loved like this and that he never would again.

Gwen, not so asleep after all, turned to face him-their noses touching- and placed her hand over his heart and told him that she felt the same way.

Gwaine knew that, in that moment, life could never get any more perfect than this.

* * *

**I just HAD to end like that.**

**Oh, this writing style is supposed to be out of order, more like a train of thought really...so tell me how I did. You know what that means...REVIEW! THE POWER OF CHRIST COMPELS YOU!  
And I'm Catholic, so I'm allowed to make fun of my religion. XD**

**Anyway, I know some people like to write stories based OFF of stories, so if you like this and that is what floats your boat, and you want to do that, PM me with what you think you'll do with Gwen and Gwaine and I'll give you permission...probably. XD**

**ooh I'm evil.**

**Regards, BadWolfWhoWaited.**

**(Virtual cookie and a oneshot written with characters, subject, genre and pairings *no slash, no offence but I feel a little awkward writing slashy stuff...femslash or slash slash* of their choice to the first to tell me about the significance of my pen name!)**


	2. Gwaine Met Gwen

**Future!Fic Reincarnation!Fic**

** A follow up to 'Gwaine and Gwen', charting Gwaine and Gwen through history as they fall in and out of each others lives.**

* * *

**GWAINE MET GWEN**

**Gwaine met Gwen** when he was a man of twenty-six, and she a young woman of twenty-two. She was pretty, clever and a deft hand with a needle, he was the spoiled son of a Lord.

From the moment of their meeting, Gwaine's every thought was consumed by his mother's favourite maid, her flashing eyes, her red hair, her smooth skin.

It was hard to keep it a secret, but his servant Leyland was a romantic at heart and helped the two of them to meet secretly every night.

When Gwaine's lordly father discovered the romance, Gwen was sent away.

Gwaine searched for years, but never found her again.

_They had four months._

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwen** when he was a grown man of forty-two and she was a spinster of thirty-eight. For years, against the advice of his friend Merton, Gwaine had wandered from village to village, drinking himself to unconciousness at every inn, acutley aware of the fact that there was something...missing, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

It's absence bothered him.

As he stumbled (still hungover from the previous nights revels at the inn down the road) towards the small village, he saw a woman with fire-bright hair being accosted by two men.

Gwaine may have been a drunken lout, but he was a drunken lout who could never leave a woman in trouble. He chased the men off, but suffered two broken ribs, a fractured wrist and a black eye.

Gwen was the village healer, and took him to her cottage to treat him. She was worldly and wise but with a keen wit and a ready smile. Gwaine quickly found himself adoring her, finding in her the piece of himself that he had been searching for for the last twenty-odd years.

Not long after their meeting, Gwen was taken away and accused of witchcraft. She drowned during the trial by water and was pronounced innocent.

Gwaine stayed in her cottage until the day he died, surrounded by memories of her.

_They had four days._

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwen** with he was twenty-three and she was nineteen on a cramped and dirty ship bound for the other side of the world.

Gwen was smart and streetwise-a pick pocket she'd been, until she grew too ambitious and cocky and took from a man who knew what too look for.

Gwaine's story wasn't nearly as impressive as some of the other's on the ship-Art and his friend Merton stole from rich and gave to the poor robin-hood style, Lee Owens had been wrongly accused of arson.

Gwaine?  
He'd stolen a cask of ale.

Gwen had laughed at that, and shared a hunk of crust with him, teasing him about his comparative lack of morals.

It seemed that Gwen and Gwaine were the only two criminals on the boat who had committed crimes for selfish reasons, something they found endlessly amusing.

Gwaine and Gwen talked quite amicably, sharing food and stories as they passed the long days trapped under the deck of a stinking ship.

A storm struck their ship not too far into the voyage. Gwen slipped and hit her head, falling under the water that spilled into the ship.

She drowned before Gwaine could save her.

_They had four weeks._

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwe**n in the middle of a dangerous, bloody war when he was twenty five and she was twenty one. She was a nurse with a pretty smile that all the men had talked about, Gwaine was new to the unit.

He had a nasty cut on his arm from a piece of shrapnel, and was confused when the men envied him.

"Betcha he gets Gwennie. Lucky bastard'" someone had muttered.

Gwaine was pretty confused when their Captain Arthur Drake, Elliot Grant, Percy Speares, Lionel Knight, Lance Lake and their field medic Merrill Emry all trooped over with him to see him get checked out, but comprehension dawned on him when he saw the slip of a girl with a dangerous smile that came to take care of him.

Even with the lads watching, he managed to hit it off with Nurse Gwen in the short time they had before she was summoned elsewhere.

"Come back and visit when you're done poking holes in people" She'd said, a twinkle in her eye.

A week later, she was dead. A disturbed patient had thrown her to the ground, she'd hit her head and died.

Gwaine didn't know why, but it upset him more than it should have.

_They had four minutes._

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwen** when he was a man of eighty-six and she an old woman of eighty-two. He was visiting his wife Mogan in the hospital when something caught his eye.

An old, weathered face that was vaguely familiar and completely alien. The woman would have been beautiful once, but her skin was lined and sagging, her hair snowy white and bleached of all colour.

The only thing that was lively about her were her witch-green eyes, sparkling brightly and dangerously. Her lips quirked in as their eyes met.

Gwaine nodded at her in greeting, and passed on, a strange ache in his chest.

When he walked back that way an hour later, the woman was gone, dead.

Heart attack, mere minutes after he had seen her.

_They had four seconds_.

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwen** in a shiny, modern city when he was thirty and she was twenty-six. She was the arm candy of the owner of several nightclubs, Gwaine was just passing through.

She was bored and tired of her dull life, and in Gwaine she found a kindred spirit who was also looking for some fun.

A drink or two later and he was in the back alley and then in her private room.

He woke up and she was gone, a note in her lipstick on the mirror.

'Thanks for the fun sweetheart'.

_They had four hours._

* * *

**Gwaine met Gwen** at the end of another war when he was thirty-six and she was thirty-two. She was an unsatisfied housewife with two children (Lachlan and Merrick) , he was her bachelor neighbour who lived off his army pension, his missing leg stopping him from working like other men. He befriended the family quickly, enchanted by the slip of a housewife, who was intelligent and witty and who could have been so MUCH MORE.

Her husband adored her, loved her, worshipped her, but Gwen did not feel anything other than friendship and fondness for him.

She loved her husband, truly, but not how he wanted.

She found solace and friendship in Gwaine. Gwaine told her stories of the world she had never gotten the chance to see, he came over when her dark-haired husband was at work and ate her pie and laughed with her over cups of tea.

Her husband encouraged the friendship, noticing that it made his pretty little wife less despondent.

He never guessed the truth.

Gwaine loved Gwen and Gwen loved Gwaine but they never did anything. They were friends but they never acted on the love they felt for each other. Gwen's children grew, and she ended up with grandchildren, all who loved their 'Uncle Noble' who lived next door to Gwen and had always.

Gwen started losing her memory at the age of sixty-eight. Dementia, they said, very rapid. She forgot her husband, her children, but not Gwaine.

Gwaine visited her every day, smiling and playing along with her as she talked about things he didn't even remember, things that had never happened.

She spoke of figures from legend and moments of history Gwaine wasn't alive for but Gwaine let her talk because it comforted her.

She passed in her sleep at the age of seventy-two.

_They had four decades._

* * *

** Gwaine met Gwen** when he was twenty one and she was seventeen. He stumbled out of a bar, slightly drunk, she was walking quickly away from her boyfriend, shouting at him too LEAVE HER ALONE, saying they were OVER, that they had never really been anything to begin with.

The boyfriend left her in the snow without a ride. Gwaine felt the urge to grab her wrist as she walked by.

"Let go of me creep, or I'll castrate you" She threatened.

Gwaine had smirked.

"Just gonna offer you a phone sweetheart" He drawled. Gwen had risen an eyebrow at that, a smile quirking her lips as she looked into his eyes and saw something in there that let her know she could trust him.

_They had for ever. _

* * *

**Review and I'll love you for ever and ever and EVER. XD**


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